


Never belittle your enemy

by melitta4ever



Series: Kinktober 2018 [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Macro/Micro, ass worship, dubious morality because it's Crowley, non-con because Dean is unaware
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melitta4ever/pseuds/melitta4ever
Summary: Crowley is known to think outside of the box, in this case, he thinks deep inside the box.For Kinktober 2018, Day 10: micro-macro





	Never belittle your enemy

Contrary to cheap characterization of demons, the marsh scent was not something Crowley enjoyed. His taste actually got even finer and more sophisticated after he had become a demon. Better than most humans, and definitely all of the angels. Maybe except Balthazar; now, that guy  _ had _ taste.

Yeah, marshes did nothing for Crowley; not their view, not their aggressive critters and bugs, and definitely not their smell. However, one does what one must in war — and love. Since Moose had upped their demon repellent sigils in the bunker and Dean had stopped answering his calls, this was Crowley's only chance. He wasn't going to refuse himself the opportunity. Also, he'd sworn to get a taste of that ass and as The King of fucking Hell, Crowley was known for the value of his word.

“I swear I'm covered by bugs,” complained Dean; whining like a child on a road trip and swatting at the poor bugs that were running away from Crowley's presence. “I say if someone is stupid enough to come this deep into wastelands, maybe they deserve to die. Let the marsh monster eat them.”

Moose's answer was clipped and exasperated, but Crowley was already under Dean's t-shirt and couldn't hear the exact words. As soon as the soft cotton closed over Crowley, his nose was filled with Dean's scent, overcoming even that strong, rotten odor saturated the air. Sitting on the hard edge of Dean's belt, Crowley took a breather. He hadn't considered how hard to fly his whole body would be when he concocted this spell. He should have designed bigger wings. Next time.

Dean's jeans hung low on his hips, stretched on that delicious bubble butt to leave an enticing little gap right over his ass-crack. Crowley slid into that opening, letting himself get squeezed gently between the soft orbs.

“Fuck!” Dean's hand slapped closed to where Crowley descending, shaking those beautiful butt cheeks like giant jello mountains. “I think something bit my ass.” His voice was barely audible all the way in here.

Crowley continued his slow slide, comfortably squeezed between the two plump cushions, burying his face into the soft hairs around him. He knew that the myth about how size didn't matter. It  _ so _ did, he mused, while his cock grew harder and bigger, and rubbed into Dean's perfect ass. How to use the said size did matter too. 

A big gallop of sweat dropped on Crowley’s head, lubing his way —would drown him too if demons needed to breathe. Crowley licked his lips, taking in the heady sensation of Dean's flavor hitting his taste buds. Dean was  _ delicious _ . He licked the skin under his hands, sucking in Dean's true aroma, relishing in the salty perfectness. Another earthquake like tremble told him that Dean had slapped himself again.

“Something’s...pants…fucking...bite…” Dean's voice came mostly through the vibrations of his flesh, hoarse and barely loud enough to be heard. 

Dean's heat made Crowley sweat too, making his naked body slide better over Dean's skin. Slowly he made it to the place where the skin got wrinkled and puckered, where the scent got sharper and muskier. That scent was Crowley's true weakness. He pushed his tongue in between the cracks, like the tiny roads leading to sweet paradise. He licked the essence of that scent, sucked the flesh into his mouth.

Something pressed right against Crowley, squeezing him almost to the point of crushing him. Don't get him wrong, it was deliriously enjoyable to be pulverized against Dean Winchester's ass. Coincidentally, it also pushed him in the furled opening that was his actual target.

It was too slippery inside, making it really hard to navigate, especially to pass that clenching entrance. The wings helped him here, their large surface increasing the friction, giving Crowley enough leeway to pull his legs inside too.

Finally.

Crowley started humping with his wings folded. Gently squeezed from every angle, his pelvis slid over the silky insides of Dean. When he was getting close to the finish line, he stretched his wings, giving himself some space to actually thrust on. The way his whole world started shaking, Dean must have been doing a silly dance by now, jumping up and down like howler monkeys.

Something poke Crowley's feet. A fingertip. He kicked the soft flesh, which urged the finger to move further up almost all the way to Crowley's ass. 

And Crowley came all over, squirting jizz over Dean's channel as well as covering that finger.

“Motherfucker!” Crowley heard Dean's voice, barely audible but still gratifying as hell.

“I won, Dean Winchester,” he yelled as much as his currently diminished lung size allowed. “I fucked your ass. You owe me that twenty, now.”

  
  



End file.
